Clarity
by kstarorange
Summary: Roxanne "Roxy" MacAlister is well aware of the supernatural surrounding the town of Beacon Hills. On the night of the full moon, Roxy's once quiet life is soon thrust into a dangerous world where her very existence may be the only key that can help her new found friends protect humanity. stiles/oc
1. Preface- Dream Catcher

_(c) kstarorange. All rights reserved. Distribution of any kind is prohibited without the written consent of kstarorange._

* * *

**clarity**

**preface**

* * *

Roxy MacAlister has always been told that dream catchers help prevent bad dreams.

The thing about dream catchers is that only beautiful dreams come through it. They're intended to protect the sleeping individual from negative dreams by allowing the positive dream to slip through the hole in the center of the hoop, gliding down the feathers to the sleeping person. The negative dreams would then get caught in the web and expire once the first rays of the sun struck them.

However, tonight, her dream catcher was doing the exact opposite.

Roxy felt like she was walking down an endless hallway— Long and dark with enclosed spacing. Surrounded with nothing but white, blank walls and darkness. All she needed now was some scary theme music and she would be the main character of her own freaking horror film.

_Fantastic._

She continues down the lone hallway, occasionally glancing behind herself for the fear of being followed, because that's exactly how she felt. She felt like she was being followed. That someone or something was stalking her every move, as if she were prey.

It was when she peered over her shoulder one last time, that her crystal blue orbs had locked eyes with a pair of red ones— red demonic ones — causing her to break into a dead run.

She feels the adrenaline pumping through her body, her heart hammering against her chest as terror washes over her. She needed to escape; she needed to find a way out. She continues down the hallway, feeling the walls beginning to narrow in on her and the air in her lungs leaving, constricting around her chest painfully, the farther and longer she ran.

When she finally reaches a door at the end of that unbearably long hallway, it's locked and it only increases the already growing fear in the pit of her stomach.

"_Please._" She begs frantically, trying so desperately hard to get the door open. "_Please!_"

Roxy stops breathing for a moment when the growling becomes louder. Swallowing down the lump in her throat, her head slowly turns, instantly locking her gaze with those red demonic ones.

She let's out a high-pitched screech.

Roxy shoots up from her bed. Her lungs are constricted and her heart feels as if it were going to burst right through her chest.

_A nightmare, it was just a nightmare._

She repeats those words in her head like a mantra, to tell herself that everything was just a dream and none of what she saw was real. No narrow hallway, no darkness and most definitely no monsters.

"Get a grip Roxy, you were only dreaming," She mumbles to herself, wiping the sweat from her brow, "it wasn't real."

Roxy sucks in a breath and exhales, in an attempt to calm her nerves, only for her to realize that her hands are still trembling with fear. Whatever that was- whatever she dreamt about had felt all too real, the growling, the haggard breathing but most importantly those _red eyes_. They were still so vivid inside her mind.

Clenching and unclenching her hands, Roxy instantly steps out of bed. She figures that maybe a glass of water would help her from freaking out again.

Grabbing a sweater off her vanity, Roxy opens the door to her bedroom and heads straight downstairs and into the kitchen. After downing a large glass of water, she takes another deep breath and finally feels herself starting to recover from that stupid nightmare.

When Roxy turns her body towards the kitchen archway in order to head back upstairs, she immediately holds her breath.

"Gran?" she rasps out with growing eyes as she finally realizes that she isn't alone in the kitchen. Her grandmother, who's been standing in front of the open doorway that led to the backyard, turns to face her with a solemn expression.

"Gran," Roxy says again with a hard swallow, "Gran what's-"

"Something," her grandmother cuts her in a grave tone, "something is coming to Beacon Hills."

"What is?"

Eleanor MacAlister shakes her head. She could feel the winds changing and the chakra flow of the earth shifting differently than it would, almost like a warning because this 'something' that was coming to Beacon Hills, seemed almost... _deadly_.

"I… I don't know," Eleanor finally admits, "but it's something— something dangerous."

At that moment Roxy's head lifts. Just beyond the distance, deep, deep into the woods, Roxy could hear the faint sound of howling. A wolfs howling; and it was then she realizes that their quaint and quiet life in Beacon Hills would no longer be so peaceful.

* * *

**A/N:**_ my first teen wolf fanfiction and it's __kind of convoluted but there's a reason for that! pls read and review! btw, you can find sneak peeks, teasers and pictures on my ff tumblr!_


	2. Chapter 1- New Perspective

**One**

_New Perspective_

* * *

At 6:30 the next morning, Roxy is lethargic and experiencing the worst migraine known to man. Since last night, Roxy can't shake the warning her Gran declared off her mind. The uneasy feeling was pooling in the pit of her stomach—gnawing unabashedly. She could feel it sink deep into her bones, almost as if the impending danger was, indeed, going to happen.

That was the thing about coming from a family of earth witches. The five senses were more susceptible compared to a normal human and that was something Roxy wasn't exactly thrilled about.

Born into a species of highly evolved women with powers drawn from the earth's elements to protect, heal, and assist mortals. Earth witches, in a way, were sort of like guardians or protectors of the earth. They protected mortals from demon witches, who inflicted, pain, suffering and curses. Someone could say she was probably lucky to be gifted with such capabilities that could surpass modern sciences, but in Roxy's case her powers were more like a curse than a blessing; and it wasn't like she could use her powers the way she wanted to anyway.

Because of the thousand-year-old blood curse, earth witches have lost access to their familiars and high magic. Now they were in hiding. Hiding from the very enemies they were sworn to overcome; and don't get her started on witch's karma, that was just another load of details she wasn't planning on getting into.

Which is why her Grandmother's "supposed" gut feeling was the least of her worries. Right now, her mission was to get through her first day of sophomore year without causing any trouble.

Get in and get out was Roxy's philosophy for the next two years, all she wanted to do was live a normal teenage life. No spells, no rituals and certainly no magic. Magic was the last thing she wanted and she wasn't about to let that ruin her first day.

_Oh god_ she thinks dreadfully even though she has yet to get out of bed; Roxy just knows today is going to suck, she didn't have to be a fortune telling witch to see it.

"Roxy," She hears her Grandmother call from out her door, "time to wake up dear,"

Today was definitely going to blow.

After mercilessly splashing freezing water on her face before brushing her teeth and showering, Roxy examines the outfit she had thrown together the night before—a pair of skinny jeans, graphic tee, and a jersey sleeved denim jacket to match with her brown boots and her tote bag— _plain and simple_ she thinks thoughtfully _the better_. Normally, kids her age would want to go all out on their first day of school—they'd want to be notice.

But Roxy doesn't want to be noticed; and it wasn't because she was anti-social or anything. Roxy thinks that bringing attention to herself would only bring her trouble. Especially when there were still whispers about her and her family; whispers about her being strange because her grand mother ran the holistic shop downtown and the fact that her mother's death had something to do with the Hale house tragedy, the townsfolk of Beacon Hills, California have considered her family a _jinx_.

So the kids her age were often told to stay away from her, otherwise her _bad luck_ would rub off on them. It was probably the reason why they nicknamed her 'Dark Mac' even though the MacAlister family have done nothing but good things for this town.

At least her peers never bothered to acknowledge her. It was way better than having people point the finger at her and cry "Jinx!" for the rest of her life. She would rather go through high school as the girl nobody talked to than social suicide.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, Roxy brushes her hair, ties it into a side braid and swipes some eyeliner and mascara before examining herself one last time. Satisfied, she packs her bag, slings it over her shoulder and heads downstairs to be greeted by her grandmother humming along to Mozart's 'Requiem in D Minor'.

"I still think nothing beats Tchaikovsky's 'The Seasons'," Roxy says as she takes a seat at the dining table, "but then again Mozart is just too much of a classic."

"Good morning to you too." Eleanor replies, turning down the radio's volume and handing her grand daughter a plate of scrambled eggs and some bacon.

"You sure seem in a chipper mood this morning Gran. What's the occasion?" Roxy asks, taking a bite of her bacon. She never played Mozart unless something exciting was going to happen or if she was 'buttering' Roxy up for some thing important she had to say (because, supposedly, classical music was calm and soothing for the soul); and from what she recalls, nothing special was happening anytime soon, so Roxy would have to settle for the latter.

"What? Can't I be excited for my grand daughter's first day of school?" Eleanor answers with a little a little too much conviction, "It's your first day of sophomore year!"

"Well, I can hardly call school exciting." Roxy responds doubtfully with another bite of her breakfast, "You're hiding something Gran. Now out with it."

With a heavy sigh of defeat, Eleanor says, "Okay fine…" and sits down on the seat adjacent to Roxy with a half empty mug of coffee in her hands.

"I used magic."

"Gran!"

"Now Roxy," Eleanor replies, "Hear me out okay? Last night, after receiving that premonition, I was trying to look into our family's witch book for some answers. I wanted to know what it meant."

"Gran," Roxy frowns with a knowing look on her face, "you know you're not supposed to use magic. Remember what we agreed on?"

"I know dear it's just…" Eleanor's eyes travel down to her mug, tentatively. She can't seem to shake last night's feeling off even if she wanted to, "it was like the earth was trying to communicate with me, but I can't determine 'what', exactly."

The younger MacAlister let's out a breath before getting up from the table to adjust the tote bag she was now slinging over shoulder, "Come on Gran, we're trying to live a normal life and 'talking' to the earth isn't, what I would call, normal."

"Oh! But I can't help it if the earth tries to speak to me. It's in my blood, after all."

Right, of course, how could Roxy ever forget?

"Well please tell the earth to find another witch to bother."

Eleanor rolls her eyes at her grand daughter's sarcasm and puffs up her cheeks into a small pout. "Alright." she drawls out, defeated, "I'll stop, no more magic."

"Thank you." Roxy says, relief in her tone before glancing at her watch and drinking the last of her orange juice in a hurry, "Okay Gran, I gotta head to school. I'll see you at 3."

Eleanor smiles, walking her grand daughter out the door. "Have a great day!" she calls out as Roxy steps into her 2001 Camry. "And good luck!"

Letting out another heavy sigh, Roxy gives her grandmother a last wave of goodbye.

_Luck_. She was definitely going to need a lot of that.

* * *

As Roxy drives into the school parking lot that same morning, she's about forty-five minutes early. Being early to school meant less people acknowledging her presence and as much as Roxy hoped that things would go her way, luck never seemed to be on her side because the moment she steps out of her vehicle and makes her way towards the BHHS building, she's almost subsequently knocked over by someone and all of her books and notebooks go flying across the concrete.

"Oh god—oh man I'm so sorry." She hears a frantic male voice say, "I didn't see you. Here let me help."

Roxy let's out a sigh, "It's fine." She grumbles, gathering her things quickly, "happens all the time."

After picking up her belongings off the ground, the boy scrambles to his feet looking very bewildered and that's when Roxy finally gets a good look at him; Stiles Stilinski, the sheriff's son— _of course_. This was probably the third time she's bumped into him in the past 12 years since they've gone to school together. The first time being in the second grade when he accidentally spilled blue paint on her favorite yellow dress, forcing her mom to come to class with an extra pair of clothes because she wasn't planning on wearing those god-awful red hand-me downs her teacher was opting to give her.

The second time was in 7th grade when he accidentally walked into the girl's locker room while she, apparently, at that time was the only one changing. He stepped in after getting knocked in the head with a volleyball during P.E. And due to being so disoriented, mistook the girl's changing room for the boys. God that was awkward; she can still remember how dumbfounded he looked—with his mouth open and his brown eyes wide. It was a good thing she was already fully clothed by the time he walked in, otherwise she'd be screaming bloody murder.

"Hey, don't I know you?" Stiles questions as his eyebrows knit together pensively.

Roxy ignores his scrutiny and stares at her boots indignantly. Here it comes, exactly what she's been trying so hard to avoid.

When Stiles finally realizes who he's speaking to, his eyes grow as he cries "Arent you—"

"_Dark Mac_?" she finishes brusquely with a nonchalant shrug, "I mean, that's what most of the assholes here call me."

Stiles swallows and scratches the back of his shaved head nervously, "And that was me being an asshole." He mumbles, understanding that he may have been a little too blunt, "Hey look, let me start over. I'm Stiles, Stiles Stilinski sorry for bumping into you—Roxanne, right? Roxanne MacAlister?"

"It's Roxy, actually." She says, surprised that he even knew her name, "And don't worry about it—umm…thanks for the help."

At least he had the audacity to apologize for being so rude. She'd give him some brownie points for that. Shifting her gaze, she noticed he had a few of her notebooks in his hands.

"My notebooks?" Roxy asks.

"Oh crap, sorry. I—they were on the ground… so I—here." he replies exasperated, beginning to thrust them forward to her and then stops, when he catches sight on some of the environment concepts she's been working on for her portfolio, "Whoa, are you an artist?"

Blushing, Roxy quickly grabs the notebooks and says, "Thanks." The last thing she needed was drawing more attention to herself because she drew a bunch of pretty pictures. She was walking away from him when he shouted.

"Maybe I'll see you around?"

Roxy turns around to look him, astounded as Stiles began shaking his head at his own confusion. What the hell? No one ever talked to her, much less offered to see her around school. In fact, most of her peers stayed away from her.

"Uh, sure?" was all she could manage out, before walking through the double doors of school.

* * *

Once homeroom was over and Roxy received her schedule for the semester, she stops by her locker to grab the Kafka book she needed for first period. By the time she gets there the hallway is packed with students and as usual they keep their distance but don't bother her—_nothing like a typical day at Beacon Hills High school_ she thinks sardonically.

Roxy doesn't have many friends due to her _scandalous_ reputation. So mingling with her peers was often difficult—if anything, non-existent. She did have some acquaintances in her art class. A few greetings here and there and maybe even some small talk; although, most of the time she was usually alone. Working in group projects were especially complicated. If her classmates weren't complete douchebags, they'd tolerate her presence and allow her do the power point and some of the research. Otherwise, they'd be begging the teacher for a group change.

Closing her locker, Roxy heaves out a breath, letting her eyes drift down the hall towards a small crowd coming in her view: Lydia Martin, Jackson Whittemore and their little posse of 'cool kids'—the bane of her existence. Just looking at them was nauseating. At least Danny Mahealani was nice enough to actually talk to her sometimes.

Roxy rolls her eyes and heads down to her first period classroom, sliding into the chair of a desk by the window. The teacher has his back to her as he continues to write the agenda for today's class on the board. Resting her tote bag on the floor, she takes out her necessary supplies including her sketchbook to get in some quick sketches before class commenced.

Roxanne MacAlister was good at many things, but there were things she wasn't particularly great at either. She had slightly above average grades (mostly excelling in English and History), but wasn't a closet genius like Lydia Martin. She was also in a few after school clubs, yet wasn't on a sports team or has won any gold medals to boast about.

When it came to her art though—well, that was a different story. There was never a right or wrong when it came to art. Art was about expressing; whenever she was sad, mad, or happy it could be seen through the concepts she would create. Drawing, sketching, traditional painting, digital painting; she could do almost anything and the rewarding part was that it made her feel free. Which is why her art teacher, Ms. Matthews, had her start on a portfolio to organize some of her best pieces for the art show that would be occurring in 3 months.

Her eyes quickly scan towards one of her classmates. He's talking animatedly to one of his friends; laughing, making hand gestures. Studying his movements, she takes her pencil and does a quick rough of his gestures and the shape of his body. She does this before getting into the important details, like shading and proportions.

She continues to sketch as more students filter into the classroom and it's only until she hears the chair in front of her scraping against the linoleum floor that she looks; her cerulean eyes growing wide—What the fuck was Stiles doing in her English class?

Roxy gazes down immediately, praying to god he would just ignore her but as usual, luck was never on her side.

As if on cue, Stiles turns, his own chocolate orbs widening, "Oh—Hey," he greets, "I guess we're in the same class."

Roxy glances up at him sheepishly before greeting him, "Hi and yeah I guess…" She honestly wasn't expecting their earlier exchange to happen so soon, yet lo and behold here he was.

With a half smile, Stiles nudges his friend in the seat next to him, who Roxy recognizes as her neighbor, Scott McCall, motioning him to speak as well. Scott, however, raises an eyebrow at him, clearly aware of her reputation and obviously questioning his best friends motives behind his friendliness.

"This is my buddy Scott by the way—not sure if you know him."

Of course she knew him. They lived right across the street from one another since he moved in and for a while when they were eight, Gran was babysitting him while his mother Melissa McCall worked the night shift at the hospital. He stopped coming over when he started going to his dad's house after school for some father-son time. But since her mother's death, he, like the rest of the kids on the playground, stayed away from her— at least his mother was still kind enough to visit Gran once in while.

Melissa was probably one of the few people Roxy knew who didn't believe in the rumors that were being said about her family. According to her grandmother, Melissa had a very Kind and old soul. If she were an earth witch, she'd probably make a wonderful Ancestor if she chose not to reincarnate in Summerland.

Swallowing, Scott forces out a nervous grin, "What's up Roxy? How have you and Eleanor been? Hope you had a good summer?"

"We've been great, actually." Roxy bites her lip trying to come up with an answer, "How about you?"

Stiles' mouth opens, his words coming out more like gibberish than sentences, "Wait do you—what the—how do you— you two know each other?"

They both nod with Scott answering, "Yeah…we're neighbors."

Stiles blinks a couple of times, ready to ask, what Roxy guesses, are numerous questions when their English teacher, Mr. Moyer, turns around to commence class, forcing Stiles to give his full attention to the front.

"As you all know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night." he addresses. Scott glances at his best friend knowingly and smirks while Stiles winks back; Roxy on the other hand looks between the two of them suspiciously. "And I am sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened. But I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody."

Again, Scott and Stiles exchange looks and despite not knowing the hidden meaning behind it, Roxy has a pretty good idea that it may have something to do with the dead body in the woods.

"Which means," Mr. Moyer continues, "you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus which is on your desk outlining this semester."

Roxy exhales heavily and flips through the packet on her desk. _The Catcher in the Rye, 1984, To Kill a Mocking Bird, nothing but the usual suspects _she thinks; she's read most of them already, some more than once just for kicks. As she skims through the paragraph on the class objective, the door opens and Vice Principal Thorne walks in with a tall brunette trailing after him.

"Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent," he introduces. "Please do your best to make her feel welcome."

The girl tugs at her sleeve timidly and walks over to the only available seat behind Scott and next to Roxy. From the corner of her eye, Roxy watches with piqued interest as the new girl takes her seat, only to be mildly surprised when Scott turns around to hand her a pen even though she didn't ask for one.

Talk about making first impressions.

"We'll begin with Kafka's 'Metamorphosis' on page 133," Mr. Moyer instructs and from there, Roxy's semester began.

* * *

Forty minutes later, Roxy shuffles out of the classroom to avoid any more confrontation with Scott and Stiles and quickly makes her way towards her locker to drop off her English binder and her Kafka book. After tossing her books inside and shutting the door, Roxy continues her trek to class until her body suddenly freezes in place.

Her stomach clenches and a strange tingling sensation runs from her pelvis to her throat. The hairs on the back of her neck and along her arms stick up instinctively and with purpose. It was as if every cell in her body sparked to life—her magic was starting up again.

Her eyes shut as she tries to suppress the throbbing. Why did her magic have to act up now and of all places? Actually, why was her magic even acting up at all? Her powers have been latent for the past six years so, why now? Why was it suddenly so… _alive_?

"Are you okay?"

She looks up, her face bleached of color and not realizing that she stopped in the middle of the hallway. However, when her gaze locks with Scott's (and Stiles) there's a backwash of emotions and images when he touches her shoulder. They're befuddled; if anything like bits and pieces of a memory.

_A dead body; screams… the howling. Scott nearly trampled on by a herd of deer. The pain;_ _a throbbing—biting like pain stabbing her skin… Then those eyes. The same glowing red eyes from her dream the night before._

The realization shocks Roxy out of the connection. She forces herself to breathe through the dizziness. Somehow, she pulled in some of Scott's memories and now she needed to leave before she lost control of her magic.

"Sorry." She says almost gasping, "I—I'm gonna head to class… Thanks."

With that, Roxy immediately stalks off, perplexed. Swallowing, she decides that its best to disregard that vision completely. Nothing good ever came from being to curious, but most importantly nothing good ever came from using magic.

* * *

**A/N:** _So sorry for the incredibly long wait, but I finally had the time and inspiration to continue this story! Originally I was going to post a REALLY long chapter for the first episode, although, for character development purposes I split it into 3 chapters. So expect another 1-2 chapter update this week! Hope everyone has awesome Sunday! R&amp;R!_


	3. Chapter 2- Magnetic

**.**

**Clarity  
**Two**  
**_Magnetic_

* * *

At third period Roxy works as a student aid in the office. She spends 54 minutes, five days a week answering phone calls for the sake of completing the 60 hours of community service requirement she needed before graduating. It's bitch work, but at least it would take Roxy's mind off her magic and that vision from earlier.

After taking a glimpse of Scott's memories, her hands glowed a faint blue as if someone brushed barely tinted watercolor over it. That soft glow was her witch shimmer. It only occurred when her powers were being used and because of what happened in the hallway, it was like her magic had been rejuvenated. It took all of second period to calm herself down.

But that vision…the vision of those red glowing eyes and the dead body… still haunted her.

There was one thing Roxy was very certain of, though; and that was her magic reacting to Scott.

Why? She didn't know, although Roxy was going to stay as far away from him as possible, including Stiles. Because there was no way she was going to allow six years of her hard work go down the drain.

"Roxanne, Vice Principal Thorne wants to see you."

From the front desk, Roxy tilts her head to see Ms. Rodriguez (the other desk clerk) gazing down at her with her usual miserable expression.

"Did he say why?" Roxy asks with her eyebrows rising dubiously.

The much rounder woman shrugs, "He didn't say, but I'm sure it's regarding the new student."

With her brows furrowed together, Roxy stands from her place at the front, moving to the side where she steps towards Mr. Thorne's office. As she walks in, Roxy is immediately greeted by her superior and the same tall brunette, who she's been introduced to from her previous English class, standing right beside him.

"Ah, Roxanne, come on in." He greets once he notices her by the doorway. Roxy's cerulean eyes glance over to the much taller girl next to him. She's nervously fidgeting with her fingers, while her own brown orbs wander towards the floor.

"Roxanne, this is Allison Argent." Mr. Thorne introduces, "Allison, this is Roxanne MacAlister."

"Hi." Allison mumbles quietly.

Roxy gives the girl a small smile and replies with, "Hey." Before turning her attention back to Vice Principal Thorne.

"Roxanne, I was wondering if you could show Allison around campus. You know, help her get familiarized with the school."

"Sure Mr. Thorne." She replies half-heartedly, "I'd be happy to give Allison a tour."

The Vice Principal's smile grows, "Wonderful!" he says turning to the Argent girl once more, "You're in perfectly good hands. Roxanne is one of our top students. I think you'll fit in just fine."

And with that Vice Principal Thorne walks out of his office, leaving both Allison and Roxy in an uncomfortable silence.

"I think you're in my English class?" Allison says first breaking the stillness.

Roxy looks at her and nods "Yeah, I sit next to you. And you can call me Roxy by the way. It's a lot shorter than Roxanne."

"Roxy? Like the brand?"

There's a pause as Allison's face washes over with pure embarrassment, "Oh my god. I am so sorry that was really stupid of me. I just—I've never met a Roxy before and— you know what I'll shut up now."

Instead of being highly offended, Roxy let's out a laugh, "Don't worry, it's cool. Honestly I've never met an Allison before, either."

For a moment, Allison actually believes her and the only time realization dawns on her is when Roxy's grin widens.

"Oh god you were kidding."

"And slightly sarcastic but I guess we're even now."

Both girls bellow out in laughter after that, the uneasiness leaving Allison's expression, bringing out a much nicer and comfortable smile.

"Thanks, I guess I needed that." Allison grins, "I've been nothing but twitchy since this morning."

Roxy can sort of relate. They both had things to be anxious about, but Allison's problem was a lot less complicated than hers.

"It must be tough being the new girl."

The taller girl shrugs, giving Roxy a half smile, "My family moves around a lot so I'm used to it by now, although, I can never get over first day jitters."

"Well hey," Roxy replies, "you've just made your first friend here, so hopefully that can ease some those jitters."

Allison grins at the thought of Roxy becoming her first friend at her new school. Roxy on the other hand, is astounded by her own cordial behavior. She wasn't used to being so friendly before, especially since she wasn't used to people talking to her in the first place.

"So how about we get this tour started and maybe you can tell me all about your travels!"

* * *

Surprisingly, Allison and Roxy had gotten along really well. Besides talking about Allison's life back in San Francisco and how her family used to move around a lot because of her father's work; Roxy learned that the Argent girl had done some Archery as an after school sport.

"Wow! The only sport I ever got into when I was younger was ballet, but I only did it for a couple of months." Roxy jokes as they make their way back to Principal Thorne's office.

"I did a little bit of ballet too, but I connected more with Archery." Allison explains, "There's just something thrilling about it, especially when I hit my target—it's exhilarating."

"I guess it's the same thing with my art." Roxy shares in agreement to her statement, "Whenever I'm drawing or painting I feel free. I feel like I'm in a different world."

Momentarily, Roxy thinks about the time her mother died. Drawing, painting, creating things through art was a way of coping with her death. It helped her escape—it kept her from completely shutting down.

"You should show me your drawings sometime. My mom says I have a keen eye for good art." Allison wiggles her eyebrows comically, causing Roxy to let out a bark of laughter.

"Sure, I have a couple of sketch books at home that I can show you. I'm preparing for an art show in three months, so Ms. Matthews has the majority of my work right now."

"I bet your parents are proud." Allison says thoughtfully.

"Well, it's just me and my Grandmother." Roxy responds with a sad smile, "But she is proud of me."

She remembers what Eleanor had said to her the day Roxy informed her of the portfolio show. _"Follow your heart,"_ She said, _"Do what makes you happy and not what other people want you to do. You make your own path." _To this day, those words stuck with her. She was thankful her Gran was so supportive on the artistic route she chose as a career path. If it weren't for that guidance, she probably wouldn't consider it.

"Wait you and your— " Allison gasps at the realization, unable to finish her sentence, "That was super insensitive of me."

Roxy shrugs, "It's okay, and my mom is in a better place now."

"If you don't mind me asking… but how did she die?"

Roxy stops walking, her head is instantly hung low and her eyes drift down to her boots. It's been while since she's been asked that question and thinking about that moment six years ago only brought back the memories she didn't want to remember.

"Crap." Allison utters, wanting to stuff herself into a locker for her ignorance, "I need to stop putting my foot into my mouth."

Looking up at the taller girl, Roxy gives her a reassuring smile, "Hey don't worry about it. It's just been a while, since I've really thought about her death. You didn't know." She says, because a question like that was perfectly normal—no harm, no foul, "And to answer your question, she died six years ago. She was one of the casualties in a house fire…"

"Oh my god." Allison walks over to Roxy and places a comforting hand on her shoulder, "That's terrible. I'm so sorry."

It was tragic—truly tragic. However, even though her mother wasn't physically with her anymore, Theresa MacAlister was most likely watching over her and Gran in Summerland awaiting to be reborn again; and that was something Roxy was going to hold in her heart forever.

"Look, I know this is all really depressing, so how about you tell me what your dad does for a living." Roxy says changing the subject. This was Allison's first day at a new school, Roxy definitely didn't want her to go home with the thought of her mother's death racking her brain. It was just as morbid as news of the dead body found in the woods.

Allison blinks a couple of times before nodding in confirmation to Roxy's request and from there, both girls continued to chat all the way back to Principle Thorne's office. However, even though Roxy seemed thrilled at the thought of getting to know Allison personably, she was still very concerned of the infamous title looming over her head.

If Allison found out about _Dark Mac_, would she drop her just like most of her friends did back in grade school?

Roxy pushes back the thought. When the time came, she would figure out how to deal with it, but right now, Dark Mac wasn't here. It was just Roxy MacAlister—Roxy MacAlister making some real friends.

After separating and going to their respective classes for the rest of the day, Roxy promised Allison they would meet up after sixth period to hangout before Allison's dad picked her up from school; and for the first time in a really long time, Roxy thinks that maybe her luck's finally about to change—that maybe high school wouldn't be so bad after all.

Quickly stepping out of her Math class, Roxy gets to her locker and puts in her combo; pulling out a few books in order to do the assignments that are due the following day. Shutting the door with a gentle close, she heads down the hall for Allison's locker.

Once Roxy is close enough, she notices the way Allison is smiling brightly from where she's standing. She doesn't know for whom or what exactly but it allows the petite girl to raise an eyebrow suspiciously at her.

"Hey, do you know him?" Allison bobs her head inconspicuously across the hall, when Roxy reaches her. Snapping her head right away towards the direction she's grinning at, Roxy feels her eyes grow when they meet with Scott's brown ones.

She swallows hard, slowly turning away as Allison continues to ogle him from a far. "That guy?" Roxy inquires, making the taller girl nod in confirmation. Biting her lip, Roxy wasn't sure if she wanted her new friend to be affiliated with Scott McCall; because even though she had nothing against him, Roxy was still shaken up about the vision from earlier.

"Yeah. I think he's in a couple of classes with us… what's his name?"

Her lips form into a tight line. Roxy's hesitant, but seeing the way Allison was looking down at her curiously, Roxy knew this was a match she wasn't going to win. So with a sigh she replies with, "Well his name—"

"Wow, that jacket is absolutely killer."

Both girls turn their heads instantly, their gazes locking with a pair of green ones. Allison tilts her head to the side, confused, while Roxy's body stiffens nervously at Lydia Martin standing confidently right in front of her.

"Where'd you get it?" the strawberry blonde continues nonchalantly with a twirl of her hair. Allison pauses momentarily, glancing at Roxy who merely blinks, still trying to assess the situation.

"My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco." Allison answers shyly.

A smirk forms on Lydia's pink lips, "And you are my new best friend." She says before eyeing Roxy up and down, "Hey... Roxy." The greeting is short, simple and out of courtesy, however, it's still enough to force the witch to marvel at the queen bee's sincerity.

"Uh… Hi Lydia."

Then, like Lydia had from out of nowhere, Jackson Whittemore appears, slinking an arm around his girlfriend's waist to pull her in for a kiss.

"Hey Jackson." Lydia giggles as Allison stands there awkwardly.

Roxy forces herself not gag at the sight and simply opts to looking away, until she feels her cellphone vibrate in her pocket. Reaching into the back of her pants, Roxy pulls the device out to see the screen flash her Grandmother's number.

"Hey Allison," Roxy whispers quietly, while Jackson and Lydia continue their public canoodling, "I'll be back, my Grandma's calling." Roxy holds up her phone as proof.

"Okay," Allison replies with a nod of her head, "I'll be here."

Turning on her heel, Roxy heads for the nearest bathroom, swiping the screen to answer the call, "Hey Gran, what's up?"

"Hi sweetie," Eleanor greets into the phone once Roxy answers, "I know I'm not supposed to be calling you during school, but Morgan is leaving early today and I need you to tend the shop until closing."

Roxy let's out a sigh, "It's fine Gran, school just ended anyway." She says with a small smile, "And what time is she leaving? I'm gonna be hanging out with a friend for a little bit until her dad picks her up."

"Well, Morgan leaves—wait _a friend_?" Roxy can hear the awe in her voice, "You made a friend?

Roxy chuckles, "Yes, Gran I made a friend today. Her name is Allison Argent and she just moved into town a couple weeks ago."

"Oh honey that's wonderful!" she exclaims happily, "I knew you were going to have a great day! The Ancestors were on your side today!" The younger MacAlister rolls her eyes. Honestly, her grandmother could be a little melodramatic sometimes.

"So what time is Morgan leaving again?"

"She isn't leaving until 5:30, so you have plenty of time to hang out with your friend." Eleanor gushes, "Just make sure to be at the shop by then."

"I'll be there." Roxy confirms, before poking her head outside the bathroom door to see Allison, Jackson and Lydia still chatting by the lockers. "Well Gran I gotta go, my friend is waiting."

"Okay, dear I'll see you later and tell your friend I said hello!"

"Sure Gran." She laughs, "I'll make sure to tell her."

And with that she ends the call.

Shaking her head amusedly at her Grandmother's enthusiasm, Roxy slides her phone back into her pocket and steps out of the bathroom. She's edging closer and closer towards Allison until Jackson's voice forces her to pause in her tracks.

"So, you and MacAlister," Jackson starts as Roxy's eyes narrow, "are you guys like close or something?"

Allison quirks an eyebrow at him, "You mean Roxy? We're friends… why?"

For a moment, Jackson sweeps his head to Lydia, who merely shrugs, focusing her attention to her perfectly painted manicure.

"Well, no one really talks to her." He clarifies quietly, "she's kind of… a _jinx_."

"A jinx?" Allison replies, confused.

"Yeah, you know, bad luck? Her Grandma runs the holistic shop downtown but six years ago her mom died in a fire that killed this entire family and for a while everyone thought she was the one who started it."

Lydia rolls her eyes, "That was just a rumor someone made up. The police found no evidence connecting her to the fire." Jackson glares defiantly at his girlfriend for interrupting him, forcing Lydia to straighten her back and reply with, "I mean from what I hear, anyway."

"Well, everyone's afraid of catching her bad luck. They call her _Dark Mac_."

Allison purses her lips together. She didn't like where this was going—she didn't like it one bit. "But Roxy is super nice." Allison defends, "And she showed me around school… I don't think she's anything but friendly."

"Believe what you want, but if you know what's good for you, I'd stay away from her."

Roxy stands, frozen in place—_so much for finally making some friends in school_ she thinks bitterly.

"So," Lydia interrupts, crossing her arms together, obviously wanting to change the subject, "There's a party."

"A party?" Allison replies.

"Yeah, Friday night." Jackson confirms, "You should come."

"Ahh—I can't. It's family night this Friday, thanks for asking."

"You sure?" Jackson asks, "Everyone is going after the scrimmage."

"You mean like football?"

The lacrosse captain scoffs almost wanting to snort and Roxy can't help but roll her eyes. _Asshole_. "Football's a joke in Beacon. The sport here is lacrosse. We've won state championship for the last three years."

"Because of a certain team captain." Lydia coos.

"Well we have practice in a few minutes." Jackson offers, "That is if you don't have anywhere else to go."

"Well I was going to—"

It's at that moment Roxy decides its time for her leave. With a heavy heart and a deep breath she backs away slowly; shifting around to trudge towards the double doors of the school. Roxy knows it was inevitable from the beginning. Allison Argent was the hot new girl at Beacon Hills high school, of course she'd find a place within Lydia Martin and Jackson Whittemore's inner circle; beautiful people herd together after all.

"Wait up Roxy!"

Coming to a complete stop in the middle of the hallway, Roxy turns on her heel to face Allison Argent grinning at her from ear to ear, "Where are you going?" she asks.

Roxy answers honestly, "Umm… home… Lydia and Jackson… you—you should go with them."

"But Lydia was just inviting us to watch the Lacrosse team practice."

Roxy's forehead furrows together and looks between Allison to Lydia and Jackson, who were just as perplexed as she was. "Uhh… I don't think that's a good idea…" If she recalled correctly, their invite was only extended for Allison and not _Dark Mac_, because why would they want a jinx hanging around Beacon Hills High school's championship team?

"Oh come on, we're friends now, remember?" She smiles, linking arms with her "And besides I need someone to explain how the game goes."

"But—"

"Look, I don't care about that stuff okay? Dark Mac or not, you're my friend."

Roxy looks up at her, her heart swelling from Allison's words. For the first time in six years, she has never met anyone who didn't care about the status quo. The social hierarchy was everything in high school especially at Beacon Hills where her ranking was found all the way at the bottom. But here was Allison Argent trying to change that.

"Do you... Do you really mean that?"

Allison nods, "Of course! I know we've just met but I've talked to you long enough to know that you're a good person. And besides what about those drawings you promised to show me?"

A small smile momentarily forms on Roxy's lips, although she's still apprehensive. "I don't know…"

"Trust me, okay? It'll be fun."

Without another word, Allison drags a skeptical Roxy back to the couple by her locker.

"So, Allison you coming with us for practice?" Lydia asks, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.

"I'll go if Roxy comes along too." Allison grins, causing Roxy to pale at the mere thought of joining Lydia Martin and Jackson Whittemore for lacrosse practice.

Jackson on the other hand wasn't so pleased with the idea of Dark Mac watching the team practice. From the corner of her eye, she could see his eyes narrow, ready to snap back with a snarky comment until Lydia cuts in with a hair flip as she says, "Perfect. You two are coming."

Grabbing both Roxy and Allison's hands, the strawberry blonde pulls them along the hall, through the doors and towards the field.

"Cute shoes by the way." Lydia muses astutely after a second or two to Roxy.

Roxy quirks an incredulous brow and glances at Allison warily, who merely shrugs at her with a small grin. There's an uneasy feeling in the pit of Roxy's stomach. She's not sure why, but she has a strange feeling that something disastrous was going to happen—something she's not entirely ready to find out.

* * *

By the time they walked up to the lacrosse bleachers, the boys were already padded up and on the field. Roxy gazes out into the field as she follows Lydia up the top row. From where she's standing she can see how wide it is; goal nets at the end of each side and the grass a bright green—so this is what it felt like to watch a lacrosse game. Since she's started high school, Roxy has never once watched a lacrosse game and it wasn't because she didn't want to, she just figured her attendance would be unwanted there. Like how she was unwelcomed in most important sports events.

"Hey, I think someone is trying to get your attention."

Roxy turns her head to look at Allison, who points to a familiar face she's been dreading to see since this morning. Stiles is looking up in their direction from the end of the bench. He seems bewildered at her presence (which of course is not a surprise to her) but he sends her a small wave and then promptly turns around to face the field again.

"Do you know him?" Allison inquires with a playful tone to her voice.

"Kind of…" Roxy answers, "That's Stiles Stilinski the sheriff's son, he's in our English class."

"Stiles, huh?" she murmurs quietly before pointing at Scott, "Well, what about him? Who's that?"

"Him?" Lydia adds in, leaning forward to nod towards the goal on the left, "I'm not sure who he is. Why?"

"He's in our English class too." Allison explains never taking her eyes off him.

Roxy watches with guarded interest at the way Scott is shamelessly staring at Allison from where he's standing, as the uncanny feeling in her stomach grows unpleasantly and the hairs on the back of her neck stand uncomfortably. Before she could answer Allison, the whistle blows and the players begin to fall into their respective places. Roxy can see the way Lydia's body bristles with excitement next to Allison.

She turns to the field once more as the boys form a line to take their shot at Scott by the goalie net. When the first player tosses the ball, Scott, who didn't have the opportunity to hold his lacrosse stick, was immediately hit—falling to the ground. Hard.

Roxy winces, sharing a concerned expression with Allison as Lydia giggles. Luckily, he comes back up unscathed, brushing himself off and clenching the goalie stick tightly. Allison holds her breath in anticipation as the next player takes another gander at him; only for his ball to go flying directly into the waiting pocket. Roxy breathes out in relief.

"He seems like he's pretty good," Allison says with a smile.

"Yeah, very good." Lydia agrees, with her lips pursed and her gaze intense.

Afterwards, Scott manages to catch every single lacrosse ball that was continuously flying in his direction. Cheers start up from the stands and even Finstock, who was usually hard to please, seemed very impressed by Scott's performance. Then, of course, there was Jackson who obviously wasn't at all thrilled at the attention Scott was garnering. Jackson pushes his way to the front, snubbing other players with his lacrosse stick to have a go at Scott himself.

Roxy shakes her head disapprovingly, feeling both Allison and Lydia tensing up right next to her—with Allison mostly from concern and Lydia from sheer excitement. Jackson sprints forward as fast as he can, leaping high into the air and using all of his strength to hurl the ball into the goal.

Roxy can feel the anticipation growing in the pit of her stomach as the ball intensely travels towards Scott who… successfully catches it. Everyone is left utterly speechless for second or two until suddenly, a ridiculous cheer goes up and everyone, including Lydia, jumps to their feet screaming. Allison joins in with a small laugh while Roxy merely grins.

However, at that moment, the same tingling sensation from earlier runs through the tips of Roxy's fingers to the base of her throat; her hands beginning to give off a soft blue glow.

_No_, she thinks to herself, forcing her eyes closed and clenching her fists together. _Not Again_.

Biting her lip, Roxy tries to focus on the game. She tries to concentrate on Finstock's passionate shouting and the cheers from her peers on the bleachers. However, the harder she tried to fight it, her witch shimmer only seemed to grow brighter.

_Don't fight it._

Her head snaps up as her eyes wander around frantically for the chaotic mess of voices she was beginning to hear.

_Just let go._

_No,_ she tells herself again like a mantra. _No magic_.

_Don't be afraid._

Roxy swallows hard and after some contemplation, finally gives in to the voices.

"Fine," She murmurs to herself quietly, "If it can make them stop…"

Blinking, her irises turn from a cerulean blue to a bright green-blue as her magic flows freely throughout her body. She channels the energy from her first four chakras; root, sacral, solar plexus and heart, that indicated the earth, the creative, the life force, and the heart.

By channeling them and with enough concentration she is able to momentarily see the energies surrounding each and every living thing—and that's exactly what she saw on the field. According to her Grandma, everyone has a colored aura. Earth witches, for example, varied in colors depending on their moods, like a mood ring. While human energies, or mundane shimmers, were typically brown. However when her gaze crosses over to where Scott is standing, the shimmer surrounding him isn't what she was expecting. Firstly because, the shimmer around him was silver and secondly the silhouette of his glow took form… of a wolf.

Realization dawns on her almost instantly. Last night, the woods, the howling, Gran's warning, and the vision from earlier, his enhanced reflexes, the color of his aura. Everything was becoming so clear that it only lead to one conclusion: an Alpha werewolf bit Scott McCall.

* * *

**A/N:** _don't worry guys i didn't die! honestly, i'm a game artist so i've been working really hard on a bunch of projects! i stink at time management so i prioritize certain things first before anything and unfortunately, my projects had to go first :( for those of you who still read this story thank you! i'll try to update this story as much as i can, because i still have inspiration-but not enough time :/ Hope everyone as a wonderful Sunday night though! Also how is everyone liking season 5 so far? i know i am! for any questions regarding this story please feel free to check out my tumblr and don't forget to R&amp;R!_


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